


Who built the moon?

by drunkbeak (arclla)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: I'm Sorry, M/M, Terrible Grammar, Translation in English, Why Did I Write This?, band au, guitarist Sirius, keyboard remus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 16:31:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17328530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arclla/pseuds/drunkbeak
Summary: Band AU and we all know what will happenEnglish is not my first language and I am pants at writing. This work was just for practice. I wrote it first in Chinese( also available in AO3 ) and translated……and failed.Anyway, please correct me if you see anything weird, enjoy!





	Who built the moon?

**Author's Note:**

> Title was from Noel Gallagher's high flying birds

Suddenly, Remus woke up in the dark. Blinked heavily, he twisted his sore neck from a bad sleep, dug out the earphone and plugged it to the phone. Strong drum beats appeared first, approached him from afar, climbed up on his spine like grape vines; chords from lead guitar and bass grew, bloomed and flooded from every corner. Rhythm became a ladder; he held it and looked up, a starless sky was above him, with clusters of cloud wandering toward the edge. Carefully, in his dim bedroom, Remus listened; the lead vocal was so raw and powerful, reminding him of sweat, tobacco and all things in gold.

“That’s not a good sign,” he murmured, took off his earphone, “sounded like a well-educated Heathcliff? What are you thinking about, Padfoot?”

As throwing a stone into a dry well, He got no answer. Remus gave up and fell back to sleep, just before the frost on the grass started to melt.

He dreamed about their first gig in a dark, suspicious live house. The venue was owned by Rubeus Hagrid, a huge, soft-hearted fellow, whose hobby was taking street animals (as well as human beings) back home. Remus slowly set up his keyboard, nearly knocked off the stand. With the help from Hagrid, James was unloading his drums from their pick-up truck, while Peter was playing with picks, but poured half of them down below the stage with his trembling hands. Only Sirius Black kept his usual manner, lazy and carefree as he could be. Remus kept looking at him while resetting the keyboard: simple white T-shirt, tattoos spread from biceps to wrists; sitting at the edge, Sirius Black was staring into an emptiness, a cigarette dangling at the corner of his mouth. A bottle of water was laid down beside him, joined by a small box of gums and a silver Zippo. 

“Well…we still have half an hour before the show, shall we, practise or something? “hesitated, Remus spoked carefully, “Since……”

“Just take a deep breath,” Remus’s question served as a switch; Sirius smiled and winked at him, just like a statue being brought to life. He used his finger to squeeze off the  
cigarette: “Come here, sit with me.”

James and Peter groaned simultaneously; puzzled, Remus looked back, but those two were already disappeared.

“What’s that?” He sat down beside Sirius, arms folded unconsciously, “what are they up to?” 

Sirius clicked his tongue, looked at him in silence.

“What?” snapped dryly, Remus shifted a little; those stormy silver eyes landed on him hotly, and that was more than enough to make him flush. He hated it when Sirius was silent; it just made him feel exposed. 

“You know what I love you the most?” a smile found its way on Sirius’s face; he leaned over and kissed him, a smoky breath reached Remus’, “You just never learn, do you?”

This won’t be their first time. Before joining the band, Remus’s life was colorless. He showed up in the classroom, slept in the dorm and spent all his free time in the library, surrounded by books, biscuits and sweet tea. His health condition only allowed him to live that much, but the real world was clearly more than a basic routine. Unable to dive in, he only touched the surface, and he was painfully aware of it. 

“There are different ways to live, and I respect them all. However, before rushing to a conclusion, we have to at least try some of them, don’t we? “until that day, a redhead girl grabbed his wrist gently but firmly,” come on, a little bit of fun can’t kill you.”

“You know what my doctor would say.” Remus said tiredly, trying to explain, “that ‘little fun’ might cause another heart attack.” 

“We will go some place quite and decent, where even a 200-year old gentleman can still enjoy a few drinks. I happened to be a medical student. I know how it works…and we are not going to a reading club! Stop laughing!”

He couldn’t remember that night clearly after all this time. Everything started at the front gate of his dorm. There was a tiny snow in the evening. He pulled up his scarf towards his eyes, felt like a Comparative literature majored Cinderell…o. He actually laughed silently at this idea, processing the absurdity and irony, and recalled several versions in Mediterranean and Asia. A headlight flashed, and he looked up, just in time to see a wild car rushing toward him. Redhead girl drove a red Jeep Wrangler that alarmingly like herself. Upon pulling over, she jumped out right away and kissed him on the cheek, leaving a red lipstick mark: “You made it!”

“I screwed up the dress code, I see.” with a heated face, Remus took into his companion’s outfit: a leather jacket, heavy boots and a high, stunning ponytail, “Should I go back and change?"

“You look gorgeous.” she giggled and opened her car for him, which elicited a weak protest, “I’ll teach you all this, don’t worry.”

“Okay.” Remus buckled up, staring at the wing mirror, “just feel nervous about this, you know my intuition; they don’t just call me Marie Anne Lenormand for nothing.”

“They never called you that!!”

He tried to rebuild the scene in his brain, and that was the clearest part. Others were blurred fragments: sweet alcohol, lime, peanuts, a small fire floating within a cocktail glass. Lily—that redhead girl— chose the place specially for him: a well-decorated, semi-underground pub, with soft jazz humming in the air. He finger-tapped the table gently and imaged himself playing the piano: those notes were mimicked by his movements, flowing away like gentle waves. Somebody tried to chat him up, but they were all turned down eventually. Watching the piano on the stage, with a glass in hand, sparkling wine smelled like peach & mango, Remus was happy, embracing the simple joy for the first time……

Until the second person appeared on the stage. 

“Thanks, Fabian.” Remus wanted to know why the music stopped. He squeezed his eyes and tried to look at the stage, but the alcohol messed with his vision: he could only see froggy outlines. The second person hugged the pianist, jokes back and forth and begged him to stay longer to be their keyboard for tonight.  
“Nah, Sirius, I can’t play your numbers.” The second person wore a MIC, so all the conversations were more or less broadcasted, “but, seriously, you need a new keyboard already, Regulus will eventually go back home and you know it—” 

“Good night to you too,” the second person shrugged, cut him off,” now move your arse.”

“Yikes, no keyboard,” somehow, Lily looked at the stage too, “so no performance tonight? Shame, they were the reason I brought you here.”

Remus turned his head, wide-eyed, “Is he that 200-year old gentleman?”

“He is not and are you drunk? For a glass? That guy went to the same high school with me,” Lily waved to the stage, spotted by that person, who returned a whistle and touched his invisible hat as a salutation, “Sirius Black, lead singer and guitarist, being a jerk as he is, but surprisingly good at what he is doing——”

She didn’t finish that sentence; Remus waited patiently, and waited.

“You are not that drunk, are you.” That sweet, dangerous tone, he fought so hard to not flee:" it depends. I think.”

“You can play piano, I just saw it.” Lily studied him thoughtfully, and looked back to the stage, “why are you still here? Go up there and save the night!”

“I play very different music, usually with words like ’classic’ or a bunch of Russian names.” Remus saw what she was going on, but he didn’t feel to against it right now: God, he was drunk, “and I am certainly not a night saver; usually I just wait for someone else……”

“Try it out then, all in good fun, remember?” Lily was surprised to see he didn’t reject it upfront; not letting this chance slipped away, she quickly rose a hand and snapped, “Come here, Padfoot!”

All in good fun. Remus lied down on the stage now, with Sirius’s hand sneaking down under his shirt, lighting up fires everywhere it went. That night was undoubtedly a pleasure: he listened several of their songs using Sirius’s headphone, flipped through the notes, and since those were simpler that what he used to play, he totally mastered the show, feeling zero nervous under the alcohol. The rest of the band loved him: after they had finished, drummer James Potter hugged him fondly and Facebooked him, Bassist Peter Pettigrew bowed, showering him with a large load of butter chocolate, and that Sirius Black……

He kissed Remus, and bruised his lips with those canine teeth, leaving a small trace of blood. He licked it carefully before speaking again, but he didn’t get the chance. 

Remus turned to his side and laughed. Sirius quirked an eyebrow:” Shall I feel offended?”

“Of course,” laughter gathered in his throat, like a bunch of feathers tickling him, he just couldn’t help it, “because I just remembered how Lily punched you off in our first meeting.”

“I always have some suspicions between you two, you know.” Sirius pulled his hair backward, exposed his high cheekbones under the stage light, which made him look more elegant but predatory, “you and Evans are like a princess and a knight, you are the princess, she is the knight.”

“The proper word is prince then, since I am anything but a female. But you are right about Lily. I have to admit, her car is more or less a thoroughbred, with that quick temper, huge appetite and everything.” Remus curled up his legs, tried to wiggle away, but the staring from Sirius was so fierce, like a silver spear pined him to the ground, “She is just being protective for her friends.” 

“Guess that’s from her family, the protectiveness. Wish I got a cop father too,” Sirius huffed darkly, grabbed his ankle and dragged towards himself, “then I won’t be pulled over so many times, will I?”

“Lily got her license legally, and her record is as clean as a napkin.” Felt a warm hand on his ankle, Remus kicked instantly; Sirius dodged to the left, it was a close call. “You don’t want to do this, right now, Padfoot?”

“What’s the matter anyway?” he tilted his head innocently, put his winning smile on the table, “we are a Rock& Roll band, only drummer needs to sit, remember?”

 

This was a terrible, terrible idea. Tears started to fill in his eyes because of the stage light……or, the pain. Sirius bit off his first button in a well-practiced manner, and spat it on the floor. The little round button rolled over in a skewed line and fell under the stage, joined that half box of picks. How many buttons do I need? He thought desperately, pure desire surged up. Felt the invasion from another soul, his throat tightened, lungs screaming for more air. Sirius didn’t feel better either. He tried to control himself. He tried to be gentle, but the squeeze around his dick was just too much to handle. Everything was blurred, he heard nothing but static, he saw nothing but blood.

Blood came from the sea. Remus hated his memory: reciting what he read in this very moment ashamed him, like being spotted masturbating in a public library. He tasted rawness in his mouth, heard blood rushed through the ears, saw a blend of colors burst and subsided. Sirius was not good at sex: uncivilized, untamed, like a wild fire or a human-shaped Chimera, and when climax hit, his face changed. Remus stared at him with certain fascinations: silver eyes lost focus, nose twitched, cheek flushed, Sirius smiled on the edge of a cry. Many books told Remus that the most pleasure of male homosexual intercourse comes from the prostate, while that was not true for him. His pleasure came from Sirius’s: paralleling and gravitating, just like the moon and the tides. 

 

He fumbled out from his dream. Like jumping out of the water, he woke up with a soaked body.

Under the sheet, another figure squirmed. First was the black hair, then a pair of confused eyes, Sirius yawned so hard that his jaw was this close to fall, grabbing his phone reluctantly,” 10 in the morning? You are lucky I love you, you wanker——”

Remus flushed so hard; after what he dreamed, he could barely speak. Sirius didn’t miss this; his face lighted up within a beat. Actually, he laughed:

“Speaking of the devil, eh?”


End file.
